“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
Use lipstick
to make people like you
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Use lipstick
to make people like you
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
[it’s real when they say it]
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
from the same arm of the scales
You satiate childhood with fables of fountains
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
One moment of silence.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Use lipstick
to make people like you
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
[it’s real when they say it]
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
from the same arm of the scales
You satiate childhood with fables of fountains
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
One moment of silence.
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Use lipstick
to make people like you
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Use lipstick
to make people like you
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
[it’s real when they say it]
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
From deep in the chasms, hear my voice!
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Without a wardrobe now,
You abandon that and all your other diplomas
backstage.
Use lipstick
to make people like you
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
She confessed that she was your real mother, but she was so young that she surrendered you for her older sister to raise. In her account, at least your father was the same.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
[it’s real when they say it]
Alone
amid marble steps
You shiver in the living room
and assume the irreversible:
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
visualize the voice of thought.
think the image of the voice.
provoke destiny. play.
from chance, from the sigh.
understand the force that links
the image to the name.
the name is an image.
the image is a verb.
play. nothing is chance.
destiny is a game.
everything is destiny.
—